


Coming Home

by KatDancer, RedIn



Series: Vigil's Keep -- On the Brink of the Mage/Templar War [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:10:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatDancer/pseuds/KatDancer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedIn/pseuds/RedIn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hearing a rumor of a very familiar healer plying his trade in a small hamlet in Ferelden, his former Warden Commander, Risa Aeducan, and his good friend, Nathaniel Howe, retrieved Anders and brought him back to Vigil's Keep in the dark of night.</p><p>Somehow he had survived Hawke's blade, but the man they'd known ten years previously was dead....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rooftop Repast

It'd been several days since Risa and Nathaniel brought Anders back to Vigil's Keep, and the taciturn archer had given the blonde mage some time to settle in -- to get used to the ebb and flow of life at the Vigil all over again, to hear voices familiar and unfamiliar ringing in the corridor, to get used to being part of a larger whole: accepted, wanted, respected.

Anders and he had once been good friends, Nathaniel reflected, approaching the door of Anders' room. Their first meeting had been tense and angry; and it had taken time before they had become comfortable with each other, and the jokes had lost their hard, nasty edges and been simply a way to reaffirm: yes, we're still alive. Yes, we are brothers in arms. Yes, we can still laugh. Yes, we still can feel.

Ten bells and the man were still not up. Clearly, he'd need to get used to being part of the Vigil's shifts again. But not today...

Today Nathaniel just wanted to talk.

Anders wasn't able to sleep more than a few hours in a row, no matter how many times he had squirmed or tried to change position; a nasty habit of a man on the run. His body was as tense as a bowstring, drifting between sleep and awareness for the last few days. Vigil’s Keep was a place he hadn’t thought to see again. Life was just full of surprises. Usually quite unpleasant, as he’d learned. He still couldn't decide if being brought back to Vigil’s Keep was to be considered as a positive or negative thing.

Too alert to sleep, the blond mage opened his eyes and eyed his room tiredly. His previous room was much more to his liking, but he wasn't a picky person, not anymore at least. It was a huge improvement, compared to his tiny room in Darktown, or the other places he’d had to live during the last years. The furniture was simple and dull, but at least the room had a large window. Risa was smart enough (or still cared enough) to realize a room with a window would help the mage feel less trapped.

Anders sighed and stared at the wall, curled up like an embryo. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, enjoying the soft fur. He suspected it wasn't part of the regular Warden's set but who he was to decline the warmth of such a gift?

There were too many sensations, too many unfamiliar people occupying this once-familiar place where he had found some happiness years ago. He could feel them staring at him when they thought he wasn't looking. That was too much for his unstable, bare nerves. So the mage found himself simply hiding from the world. It was much easier that way.  
"Anders. Rise and shine, sleepyhead...."

Anders turned his head towards the door. He recognized the voice's owner immediately, Nathaniel Howe. Anders shook his head disapprovingly yet stood up with some effort. Sliding the blankets tighter around his gaunt frame, he went to the door and opened it.

"Nathaniel?" the single word contained surprise, a question and some sleepy annoyance.

 

"Anders. Good morning. ....Or is it?" Nathaniel crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, giving Anders one of his rare smiles -- not the amused smirk most saw, or the sardonic sneer he'd inherited from his father. He crossed one leg as well, leaning, looking careless and trying to take up less room, look less bulky. Something about the open smile Nathaniel gave him sent a pang through Anders’ heart. Had he missed that long forgotten smile? Maker, he had, he had missed his friend. He really had.

Howe took in the mage's bleak appearance, and the smile faltered a little. "Did you sleep well?" Anders only shrugged in response. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and choked back a yawn. "I did, a bit. It's hard for me to sleep for long. Old habits die hard."

Howe looked across to the large window, and nodded, as if it were the answer to a question he'd had. "Are you comfortable here? If there's anything that you'd like, anything that would make it feel more... well, yours, I suppose... let me know. Anders shifted from foot to foot, thoughtful. "I don't know," he admitted. "Right now I am mostly confused. So many memories, everything is the same and yet it's not. I…I need some time to adjust. Ask me in a month or so." Talking with Nathaniel as if everything were all right was not easy for the mage. Part of him wanted to embrace the pleasant memories of friendship and card games while the other cried out in horror at the much less pleasant memories he carried with him from that period.

That smile again, with a hint of something slightly sad, something gentle. Anders averted his eyes.

"Are you hungry? I thought perhaps we could eat. And talk. Some place other than the mess hall with everyone and his sister hanging about." Nathaniel suggested. Anders wanted to refuse, to be left alone. Yet his mouth voiced a soft agreement. He left one of the blankets on the bed, as the other was still wrapped around him. Thinly smiling back, he followed the black- haired man. Maybe simply talking wouldn’t be as stressful as he imagined it.

Nathaniel moved with certainty and grace down the hall, and when voices seemed to be approaching them, he slipped into a side room, nodding for Anders to follow him.

Inside the room, which was dusty and filled with crates, Nathaniel walked over to the fireplace. He pressed on part of the carved mantelpiece, and then stooped to press against the back of the fireplace. It moved back with a slight grating sound, and Nathaniel disappeared inside. The mage's eyes grew wide when Howe went to the dusty fireplace, pressed on part of the carved mantelpiece and revealed a hidden entrance. "Oh, that is unexpected…" Anders drawled, almost backpedaling as the darkness of the passage silently laughed at him. He didn't want to follow Nathaniel in there.

"Thomas, Delilah and I discovered these secret passages as kids -- no doubt they were intended to allow Howe ancestors to flee if the Keep were surprised..." Nathaniel scowled. "Or to keep assignations their spouses or servants were not to know about," Nathaniel continued, still oblivious to Anders' distress. "Regardless -- this will let me take you to... breakfast, without us having to exchange pleasantries with anyone. Come." he said encouragingly. "I...I don't know. I still don’t feel very comfortable with too many walls around me." His eyes flickered between Nathaniel and the darkish passage, his fear leaking out.

Nathaniel didn't remember him acting like that before. The mage had never liked being below ground, it was true, but he had never looked as afraid as he did now. Nathaniel straightened up, pulling the passageway shut and engaging the locking mechanism. "We don't have to do it if you don't want to." he said, tempering it with a nod.

"Those hidden passages…how common they are? Are they to be found in each room?"  
Lowering his eyes and playing with the edge of his blanket, Anders licked his lips nervously.

"Not all of them. Your room, for an example, doesn't have an entrance into the passages -- you don't have to worry about someone coming in any other way than the door," Nathaniel said, trying for another reassuring smile.

"Oh, it'll definitely ease my sleep at nights." Anders’s tone was more sarcastic than he meant. He fidgeted and looked away from the dark- haired archer. "I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I'm sorry," Anders hurried to add.

Nathaniel walked over to Anders, calculating which way he could take him with a minimum of fuss. As he thought it over, he stopped and looked -- really looked -- at the man in front of him. Anders looked older than he ought to, painfully thin, and as if he hadn't slept well in a long time. Sighing inwardly, the archer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps he should have let Anders try to sleep more. Perhaps what he had arranged as a treat, a sort of welcoming home, was instead an imposition and a burden.

Trying to find a bridge between them, Nathaniel slowly gestured that they should return to the hallway and asked in a soft voice, "What would ease your sleep?"

Anders looked up sharply. He definitely didn't expect to hear the care, the concern in Nathaniel's voice, to see it in his uncharacteristically soft eyes. The mage swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, lowering his chin. Why did Nathaniel care? He chewed on his dry lip. "I...don't know. I am not sure it's even possible. Do I deserve a decent sleep, after all I have caused?" he asked the other Warden, in no more than a hoarse whisper. A renewed wave of guilt, remorse and self-hatred washed through his sickly body. He had lost the count of how many times he had felt this way, left to live with the consequences of his deeds. Indeed, it was the worst punishment for the healer in him, for his already broken being.

 

Not allowing the other to respond the mage slightly lowered his voice, finally daring to ask. "Nathaniel how did you and Commander find me? And.... why I am still alive?" His voice was very calm and only the slight shiver of his hands messing with the blanket gave him away. Anders didn't know how to explain that he still hadn’t been sent for an early Calling or any other punishment fit for his crimes. Wary and scared, he found the expectation was killing him.

Nathaniel squinted at Anders. "We heard about Kirkwall... I don't think it's possible that anyone in Thedas didn't, though it really didn't occur to us that you were the Anders that started this Mage-Templar war. We thought it was an Anders... not our Anders, not you. And you were officially announced as dead. People saw you dying." He gave a humorless smile. "Finding you was an accident, actually. There were rumors of a healer close to Denerim, an apostate healer matching your description. We happened to be on the way back from the capital anyway, so we decided to investigate. It sounded stupid back then, knowing you were dead, but Risa insisted. I am glad she did. When we started feeling another Warden, well..." Nathaniel frowned at the blond mage. "And what do you mean, why aren't you dead? Are you talking in a philosophical way, speaking rhetorically about why you haven't been killed during your travels -- or are you seriously asking whether I'd help drag you back here to face the hangman?"

"I thought you were going to kill me, or punish me by any other means you thought I deserved for what I have done. That's why I surrendered. As I said before, I am tired of running," Anders replied flatly. "I just find it hard to wait, not to know. I would prefer to face my fate already. Don't taunt me, please."

Nathaniel felt his anger drop away, replaced by confused horror. Anders actually thought... "No. We didn't lie to you -- we brought you ho-- we brought you here to refuge, to shield you from the world. You're a Warden, Anders -- and we take care of our own." Anders just kept starting at him, his eyes wary and questioning. Nathaniel sighed and added quietly, "If it was to kill you... why we would we trouble to heal you and bring you here? Wouldn't a slit throat right there in your clinic have been easier all around?"

Anders laughed bitterly, a hoarse sound from the depths of his thin chest. "Perhaps it's exactly what I deserve. I am a very infamous man after all. I can’t even die like a decent person."

Nathaniel couldn't even make a joke of it. "I never imagined you’d be famous for…. I never thought... well. It just didn't seem to be in you to do something so extreme... to harm innocents as well as..... It just seems so out of character for you."

Tightening the blanket around his shoulders, the blond apostate just stood there for a while, considering his options. "I have changed my mind. We can use the passage. I don't want to be seen or to see anyone else right now. I hate the way they look at me. I can feel them staring. It's quite unnerving." Nathaniel was surprised by blonde's decision. He got the feeling that the more confined he was, the more panicked Anders was.  
Frowning, Anders looked at the fireplace and tried his best to suppress the shiver. I can do it. There are no templars, no locks. It's not the same. I can trust this person. I think I can. He knew he shouldn't do it but couldn't stop himself, almost reaching out for Howe's hand. He needed some human contact now, something to support his decision, desperately hoping for some kind of approval and comfort, and angry at himself for being such a weakling.

Nathaniel almost missed Anders reaching out for his hand and then stopping. Well. The man had always been gregarious and rather easy about touching others and being touched. Nathaniel had noticed the same tendencies in other mage-Wardens who came from the Circle. Was it a cultural thing he wondered for a moment?

And he had held the mage's hand after Risa had finished yelling at him at this nameless clinic of his in that nameless hole of a village he had been hiding in, to calm him. The dwarf was petite, even for her own kind, but frightening when angry. There was no doubt in either Nathaniel’s mind at that moment, nor in Anders’s, that she had actually slain the Archdemon personally. It had only occurred to them later that her furious diatribe was born out of mingled rage at how close they’d come to losing Anders to templars at that tiny rural clinic, and her overwhelming relief.

"Ok. Let's go then." Nathaniel reopened the passage, lighting a torch within one of the two brackets there and taking it in his left hand. He stepped inside and extended his other hand to Anders. Nodding approvingly at the light the torch provided, Anders straightened himself. Hesitantly he took Nathaniel's hand, finding the comfort he needed so badly. Nathaniel’s hand was warm and callused. Anders braced himself and stepped forward, after his fellow Warden.

Focusing entirely on Nathaniel and trying to breathe as calmly as possible, Anders was led between the damp walls. He was sweating despite all his efforts, biting down the distressed sounds of rising panic. He stumbled a few times, each time gasping and tightening his grip on his fellow Warden’s hand.

Nathaniel led Anders through the cool passage as quickly as he could. The feeling of the mage's hand spasming around his and becoming slick with sweat caused him to hurry even more. He cursed himself -- there had to be another quiet way back from the roof. He wasn't going to put Anders through this again.

He opened the secret door that led directly into the stairwell to the roof. Blowing out the torch and put it into the holder inside the passage, and shut the passage, he gestured for Anders to precede him up the stairs into the open air.

"Thank you for your patience." Anders mumbled, still feeling nervous and somewhat unfocused. His head fell back, welcoming the stray wind cooling his trembling, sweaty features. He took a few shaky breaths, finally releasing Howe's hand with a quiet apology. "I... really... hate small dark places..." Anders murmured as he breathed deep long breathes to relax his shivering body. And then he turned around, going very still at the sight unraveled before his wide eyes.

The roof actually was covered with grass, and a couple of goats were up here, munching away. The bar-eyed critters gave them both a curious look and then moved off, presumably to greener pastures. And a big picnic basket placed on a large blanket was a colorful stain in the middle of everything.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Nathaniel touched him lightly on the elbow to get his attention. "I'm sorry, Anders -- I didn't know it would be so bad for you. But here we are." Howe led him over to a picnic blanket that had been set out to give them an unobstructed view of the farmland, the cliffs, and the sea. Anders didn't resist, too overwhelmed to say anything. Nathaniel knelt by it, opening it. "It's not as fancy as what they'd had at 'Seven Bells'," he said apologetically, "but you may find some things you like."  
  
Anders sat at the edge, watching Nathaniel. Inside the basket was a hearty loaf of dark brown bread with fruit and nuts baked inside, a container of honey butter, hard boiled eggs, bacon, cheese, a bottle of wine, and some waterskins. There were also two plates, two cups, and two napkins. The archer even thought of bringing knives and forks.  
  
Anders was staring at Nathaniel for a while, still trying to process the situation. His eyes were full of quiet astonishment. "Is…it…did you have arranged everything… For me?" the mage whispered, waving at the generous display of affection before him. "Well, for me too. Warden's appetite, you know." Nathaniel shrugged, casually tearing a chunk off the bread and slathering it with some honey butter, setting it onto his plate. "This is quite good -- something the cook used to make for Delilah, Tom and me when we were kids. You should try, really." A smile lit up Anders' face, starting from his amber eyes, reaching the corners of his mouth, small at first but growing steadily.  
  
"You shouldn't have… But it's really nice of you."Anders paused; not used to being treated with honor and care the mage didn't know how to express his gratitude, that unexpected warmth in his chest. His hand stroked the blanket he was sitting on. It was soft. He liked it. Squinting at the food, Anders inhaled deeply.  The mouthwatering smells broke through his reticence, his stomach following with a loud growl. Chuckling, the blond reached out and cut himself a small piece of bacon. He wondered if Nathaniel remembered how much he liked the pork or was it there just by accident. And then another and another. He couldn't stop eating, feeling so hungry all of sudden. He has tasted of everything, warden's appetite indeed taking over.  
  
Howe saw Anders from the corner of his eye joining the meal and nodded approvingly. The man was so amazingly happy about a simple meal that had been no trouble to arrange. His heart went out to him. Nathaniel slowly finished eating his bread, and grabbed and peeled an egg, grabbing a pinch of salt from a small pot to sprinkle over it.  
  
Chewing energetically, Anders glanced at Nathaniel. "So that's why you dragged me out of my room? I have to admit, I still can't believe you have organized everything for me. All of it…I have never expected this. But I really like it. I do. It's awesome. Wait…I'm not dreaming, right?" He stopped, pinching himself. "Ouch! Not dreaming then. Where was I? ... Oh, yes… Why do you still care enough to organize something like that? After all I am no more than a wanted criminal. A possessed mage. I do not deserve to have a picnic. I am babbling again..." He could feel the tears forming in the corner of his eyes and tried to blink them away, shying from the other warden.  
  
Nathaniel looked over at Anders. This Anders -- so uncertain of himself. Nathaniel had no doubt the man truly regretted what he had done but -- his demeanor was of a man who expected to be kicked, abused and beaten. There was something utterly broken here. His friend had been charming, cocksure and playful. A man who had always been giving-- both as a healer and, from what Nathaniel had seen and heard, as a lover. Someone had done this to him. To his once best friend. To Anders. Inwardly, it infuriated him.  Nathaniel kept the anger carefully off his face, out of the set of his shoulders, his body seemingly relaxed and contented -- one was not the son of Rendon Howe without learning how to mask his innermost thoughts and his emotions. Openness, honesty, compassion; all of it was weaknesses, in his father's eyes, despicable, worthy of being exploited. Nathaniel did not share the sentiment, but he'd learned to protect himself against the man -- and too many others like him in the world -- all too many, really. Inwardly he cursed the templars who'd tormented Anders his whole life and that crazy Hawke in Kirkwall who broke him so thoughtfully.  
  
"We're friends, Anders. You have saved my life more times than I could ever thank you for, and more than just with your magic. Without your teasing and needling me and being a snarky pain in my ass, I'd have been a younger copy of my father -- bitter, despised, grasping -- you didn't allow it. That's more than enough reason to take the trouble to eat and talk with you." The archer said. He left the food aside and concentrated on the mage.  
  
Anders listened to Nathaniel, wide eyed. A half bitter smile spread on his dry lips. He remembered, the best year of his life. Only his years with Hawke, in Kirkwall could be put second to this year. "Things were much simpler back then. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we would take different decisions…If our lives would turn out for better or worse…" the mage whispered, the sadness is clear in his voice.  
  
Despite all his love for Garrett, there were always secrets between them, things to keep them apart. When he was just a warden, things were clearer: survive the darkspawn's attack and keep your allies alive. There was acceptance, care and deep friendship, things he have never had before. And Nathaniel Howe was there too, his best friend, his anchor, his everything. To leave the man behind was one of the hardest things Anders ever did. "I'm sorry Nathaniel. I felt the same way about you. You were fun, in your own way, honorable, supporting. A... good friend. The best friend I ever had, if I'll be completely honest. I never wanted to leave you and the Commander like this. I wish it didn't end this way."  
  
Nathaniel studied the mage. He hadn't realized Anders had felt so close -- but was it really surprising? They'd joined within days of each other, and Risa had kept taking them both with her on missions. One bonded under fire and the truth was, though it manifested in different ways -- he and Anders were, at the core, lonely, and wishing for things in life they could never have. He nodded, softly approving Anders's confession.  
  
"I wanted to ask, but I'm glad I didn't in front of Risa. Why did you fake your death and run? I had been told Rolan was your shadow, but it must have been more than that... And Kirkwall, I didn't expect to meet you there, accompanying Hawke." Anders sighed loudly. Nathaniel could see the mage wasn't happy about the line of his questions. "Can you make me understand? I am asking as a friend -- not as a Warden. Not as a jailor – Maker preserve me, if I thought there were any place safer for you I'd have sent you there, immediately. This isn't meant to be a jail. This is meant to be your refuge -- your home. Your safe place, Anders." Nathaniel placed his hand above Anders's and was relieved when the mage didn't push it away.  
  
Anders stared at their joined hands wearily. "I guess you deserve to know the truth. Sweet Andraste, I has told about it only to...to Hawke. When I joined with Justice I realized it was a great mistake. I wanted to help him. We thought we were ready for it. We thought that together we would be able to change things for better for the mages. If I had only know…It has changed me, us." Anders started to tremble as he continued. "Rolan was there, somehow and he brought his templar friends." He could feel the words rolling from under his tongue like burning coals, hurting his throat but couldn't stop. "I was scared, terrified. They wanted to kill me, called me an abomination. Everything blacked out so suddenly...When I opened my eyes...there was so much blood around me, all over me, in my mouth. I…WE... have ripped them into small pieces, burned their flesh bare handed. Nate, I am a healer; I’m supposed to save lives, not to end them... I wasn't stable, didn't want to endanger any of you. Is there a safe place for someone like me Nate? Will there ever be?" Anders's eyes were full of guilt and misery. Nathaniel kept his silence, allowing his hand stroking Anders's to speak for him.

  
Anders grabbed the bottle and drank -- a desperate gulp, whether to clear the remembered taste from his mouth or dull memories and pain, Nathaniel couldn't begin to guess. He ended coughing loudly but went for a second taste, this time slower.

  
Nathaniel considered his next words carefully. "We can hope. And work for it, in our small ways." When he asked about why Anders has left, he could never have guessed that he would have gotten the truth -- or how chilling it was. Rolan: A traitorous bastard. Anders was a fellow Warden, supposedly his brother. And he'd betrayed him to the chantry?! Nathaniel was glad he was dead -- thought not the way Anders described it.  Yet he couldn't avoid thinking how reckless Anders's actions were. The archer felt guilty, it was he who planted the seeds and both Anders and Justice have paid the price.

  
He could barely fathom the torment that must have been for his friend. Anders had killed -- they all were killers, come to that -- but not so.... brutally. He could understand his friend's flight now.... shame, fear... and horror. And not knowing if he'd wake up and find he'd killed his friends, too. "So... Justice...is within you?"

  
The blond shook his head. "No. Justice is gone. Even he's gone." The unspoken, hinted loneliness in his quiet voice didn't went away unnoticed. Nathaniel squeezed Anders's hand as if to say him that he's there. The mage blinked and slowly took his hand away, staring at it blankly for a while.  
  
"Please tell me what caused you to do what you did. What happened to you in Kirkwall." Pausing the intense examination of his pale fingers, the blond gasped in surprise. He didn't think his friend will be really interested at his side of story. None was before. "Kirkwall…it’s a long story...Are you sure you want to know, Nate?

  
Nathaniel put his hand out for the bottle, took a long drink himself. "I want to know. For better or worse. Please tell me."  
  
With a single, pained nod Anders started his story. His sentences were unsure at first, more disrupted fragments then a story. Sometimes he fumbled through the words, running forward or going back to explain some thoughts and deeds of his. As he continued, he felt himself living again through each of those memories. The memories invaded his haunted, tormented mind, causing him to smile and to shed tears randomly.  
  
As Anders kept talking his voice became quieter till it was only a hoarse whisper, detached and flat. Nathaniel had listened to the entire story in silence, simply absorbing it. Not judging. Not condemning, though certainly there were horrible things there. But the Grey Wardens had done, and would continue to do, horrible things to end the darkspawn threat. So had he any place to judge? He watched, and listened, as Anders poured out the pain and the joy he had experienced since Nathaniel had seen him last.  
  
It was mostly pain.  
  
An unbearable knot formed in his stomach, cutting the tale at once.  The mage hurried to crawl aside to a corner and almost symbolically, after he has purged himself of the story of the last ten years of his life, he purged himself physically of his stomach contents as well. Nathaniel rushed to push the long hair from Anders's face, steadying the mage. Anders was emotionally drained, red trimmed eyes swollen from tearing, shivering and cold. His thin body shivered under Nathaniel's touch.  
  
Nathaniel didn't blame him.  
  
He dampened a napkin with water from the waterskin, and returned to Anders, handing the cloth to the mage. Rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades Nathaniel Howe felt for Anders. "I'm here," he said softly, arms wrapped around his friend. "I'm here, Anders. I've got you. I'm not going away. You are not alone."  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Anders accepted the wet cloth and cleaned his mouth thoroughly. He leaned into the touch; craving the smallest sign of affection and acceptance. He half-turned to Howe, burying his face on the man's shoulder. "I have made so many mistakes…Everything was a mistake, useless. I don't want to hide any more, Nate. I just want the mages to be treated like _people_ , not hurt and abused anymore." His malnourished body began to tremble again, unable to contain the suppressed grief. He had been through so much pain. He couldn't keep it inside anymore. He desperately needed someone to hold him, to be strong for him. He was crumbling apart like a sandcastle.  
  
His silent, salty tears broke into low keening, sobbing and begging to be forgiven. He could have been begging for Hawke, for all the people who were caught by the Kirkwall incident or for Nate himself. He couldn't tell.

  
Nathaniel held Anders against his chest, his arms around the man protectively, still rubbing his back. _Maker_. What Anders was responsible for was monstrous -- but it was a response to years of abuse, a lifetime of abuse few could dream of –and at least half the responsibility for Kirkwall could be laid at the feet of the late Knight-Commander Meredith and her late Grand Cleric Elthina -- one for her insane abuses and tacit, if not outright approval, of the same from her templars -- and the other for turning a blind eye and letting it continue when she had the power to restrain the excesses. He had never known Anders to be a violent man... in fact, he had been probably the most compassionate soul he'd ever met when all the upper layers were peeled away. _To have been driven to this...._  
  
Could he excuse it? _No_.  
  
But he could accept the man.

Eventually, Anders had no more tears to shed. Weary, he rubbed at his swollen from eyes, his body too weak to support his own weight. Sobs turned into weak hiccups and then into gasping and broken breathing. "Justice died instead of me when Hawke..." He couldn't finish the sentence. What Hawke had done, his final words, his disdainful expression; all of it still hurt. "And… I’ve just…wandered around since then." Anders stole a glance at Nate's profile before continuing. "Do you _still_ want to help me, Nate? Will Risa _still_ protect me? It'll be dangerous for all of you to keep me here. You _should_ give me to them. I don't want you to be hurt. Why would you shield a monster like me?" the blond mage whispered tiredly. He had no strength to move right now.

  
Nathaniel simply held the mage in his arms, cradling him there as he might a small child who had cried himself out. Anders felt Nathaniel's arms tightening their hold a bit when he was done speaking. Automatically he pressed himself even closer, desperate for more human warmth. He couldn't get enough of it, taking as much as he could before the moment will end.

Safe.

He felt safe, something he thought he'd never experience again. Wrapping his arms around the archer Anders slowly relaxed.. "You are hugging me instead of running away." _What's wrong with you?_ "I...I don't know why you are doing that, for me. I am nothing but trouble. I don't deserve such loyalty." Yet he clung to the man like he would to a life preserver. _Don't let go, please...I need it…I need you so much to hold me, to guide me, to save me from myself._

"I had always respected Justice... It was my idea which started all of it. For that I'm more than sorry. I wish it could end differently.  There isn't any question, Anders. At least not on my part. You're a _Grey Warden_ \-- and in a very real way, the man who blew the Chantry up died that day." Howe took a moment to stroke Anders's hair then. "We'll figure something out. There would be no use in handing you over. If anyone wants you, they can try taking you from us -- emphasis on the word _try_." __  
  
The mage raised his head, staring worriedly into Nathaniel's eyes from between messed locks. His slender fingers ran along Nate's shoulder, examining the many wet spots from his earlier flood of tears. "I have ruined your surprise...Everything is wasted. Oh, Nate, I'm so sorry." He began to shiver again, partly because of the guilt and partly due to the cold.

  
"Idiot," Nathaniel said. His lips quirked up, but there was no heat to the word -- simply the same affection with which they'd traded insults ten years previously. "You think any of this was about food, or clothes, or surprises?" He sighed, rubbing soothing circles on Anders' back. "You're home, Anders. You're _home_."  
  
Risa would understand -- how could she _not_? Nathaniel had sat up and gotten drunk with the woman once, and she'd waxed loquacious on her own past.... and the things she'd had to do during the Blight years. He knew the woman regarded Anders with affection. She could be hard, it was true -- she'd had to be her entire life. But she was doggedly loyal to her companions, and had grumbled more than once, even before Kirkwall, that the oppression of the mages would "bite you cloud heads on the arse, and then some." But Anders didn't need to hear that right now. He just needed to know that he was someplace he could stop running.

"Home?" Anders swallowed hard and blinked. Pushing himself away gently, the mage managed to stand up.  Nathaniel's brows knitted in worry but he decided to give the healer some space for now. Anders rubbed his forehead drowsily, his hands shaking. _Home?_ Where was his home? Once he thought, really wanted to believe his home was where Hawke was. But the sweet illusion didn't hold up for long. The little voice in his head began to preach again that everything was his fault. He did it to himself, killed the only valuable thing he had- the love he and Hawke shared. _  
  
_Anders made his way to the spot where he’d left his blanket. Lifting up the thick cloth, the blond wrapped it around his frozen body. "I'm cold,” he said to Nathaniel, knowing it sounded like a lame excuse. But he was cold; from inside outside. He briefly wondered when Nathaniel would grow tired of him and his breakdowns. _Eventually everyone did._ "Help me to believe, Nathaniel. I really want to. I need something certain, steady in my cursed life. I am so tired, if you wouldn't come back then, you and Risa, I would use that pois…" Anders paused as he realized what he was saying and bit his tongue. He shouldn't say that. The very same poison was still hidden in one of his coat's pockets. He had been toying with the idea for the last few days but couldn't make himself actually do it.

 

Nathaniel froze. Had he just said…  
  
He had. _Maker's balls._  
  
"I don't know what more I can say to you, Anders," Nathaniel said quietly, suddenly feeling very cold himself. "Risa and I brought you here because we want you safe. Do you understand? You're family. _Damn it._ " He paced nervously as his voice grew in volume. "Have I ever lied to you, Anders? You're here because we _want_ you -- _need_ our brother home safe with us. Do you want me to tell you that I'd kill any Templar stupid enough to breach the gates? I would, without any hesitation. The day when the news about your death reached us…" He stopped, realizing he was basically yelling.

 

Anders was staring at him, jaw slack in shock. Nathaniel was screaming, his face twisted, his hands flailing. He could count on his fingers cases like that. He had to admit, a raging Howe was a frightening sight.  
  
"Don't do this thing, Anders, I beg you." Nathaniel's voice wavered, thick with emotion. He took one, two, three swift steps and crushed the mage to himself in a bear hug. Anders's squeak of surprise was ignored. "Don't. I can't hear about your death again. I don't want you dead. I want you here, with me, with us."

  
Anders wasn't sure what to say at that. Stiffening at first he found himself being hugged fiercely, again. Nathaniel held him tightly, almost crushing his thin limbs with emotion. "Nathaniel…" the blond apostate murmured in astonishment. He was unused to see the usually calm and collected archer so open about his feelings. Anders allowed himself to lean into the embrace, basically melting into it after a few moments. He could feel Nathaniel's warmth and genuine concern, leaking into his bones, warming up his frozen insides even through the blanket between them. His blond head fell forward, again landing against Howe's shoulder. He sighed into Nathaniel's coat. "I didn't know you were feeling that way Nate. It is still hard for me to understand why you and Risa still care about someone like me. I am so confused right now. I am sorry."  
  
"You said once to Risa that you were a lot of trouble. She said you were worth it. And you are." Nathaniel stepped back, nodding. "I would say worth every minute, and more." Nathaniel's face darkened back into worry. "And that poison...?"

  
Anders bit on his lower lip, debating with himself. "I won't use it, Nate. I promise you, I won't. It's in one of the pockets of my coat. I left it my room, just in case. I think I should give you the bottle. Will that be okay?"

Nathaniel gave him a long, searching look. "Your word is good enough for me, Anders. I'll take it if you want me to, but if you tell me you won't use it, I believe you." He smiled, a little sadly. "I wish we had known... had been able to help you before things got so bad for you. Things will be better now. You'll see."

"I want you to take it. Sometimes I don't trust myself; it will be better that way." Anders murmured brokenly. Nathaniel gave him a small nod. If it'd make Anders feel better he'll keep that bottle. "I can't trust myself,” the blond mage repeated. "I have made so many mistakes when I had to make my own decisions. I fear deciding things. Somehow, usually it leads to a bigger mess. I...I need someone to show me what is right and what is wrong, to stop me when I am about to lose control." The mage shuddered at the memories.

Nathaniel nodded. "I see, Anders. We are here for you, no matter what the problem is, talk to us. You are not alone."

  
 Feeling an urgent need to change a subject to something lighter, Nathaniel desperately looked for a subject. A sparkle of something down Ander's throat caught his attention. The mage was wearing some kind of necklace. "What is it?" he asked, pointing at it. Anders pulled the medallion out of his shirt and showed the jewel to the archer. It was a flat square amulet made of deep blue lapis and translucent agate, decorated with silver rune like shapes.

  
"This? Oh, it's a gift from a satisfied patient. I was given it about two years ago, when I was in Rivain." The healer started to explain, a faint smile on his pale lips. "I was living in a small nameless village, seems like a habit of mine…Anyway, I was able to save the local seer's daughter’s life. In gratitude, she made that for me." Anders absently played with the jewel as he spoke. "The amulet is about finding my inner serenity. I’m skeptical about this, but I kind of liked it. So I kept the medallion."

 

"It looks pretty, Anders. You still have ~~a~~ good taste in trinkets." Nathaniel studied the jewel, taking it between his fingers. Anders stilled as he allowed Nathaniel to examine it ~~s~~ closer. In reality, Nathaniel was a practical man and was indifferent to things like jewels and finery. But seeing Anders smiling at the compliment was worth the effort. He liked to see the mage smiling.

 

Anders fidgeted with the blanket's edge for a while as he grew quiet and thoughtful. Nathaniel remained near, quiet as well. He didn't want to rush Anders or to make him uncomfortable in any way. The lingering silence was a comfortable thing to share between them as a timid wind played with their hair. They stood like this for some time, each lost in his thoughts.

 

"You asked before if there was something to make me feel better." Anders finally broke the silence. "I didn’t ask… where’s my Pounce? Oh dear Maker, I am so terrible. Is he still in Delilah's house? Do you think I'll be allowed to bring Pounce back? I miss him so much…"

  
"He's fine," Nathaniel said, not surprised at all. He knew the question would come up sooner or later. "Actually, Delilah broke down after a few months and brought him back after he marked and pissed everywhere he could or shouldn't be able to reach." Anders gulped and chuckled nervously. The orange-furred beast was quite a prick and unfriendly to everyone but Anders and…Sigrun for some reason. He’d already forgotten the time Pounce made his extremely smelly needs into Commander's favorite armor or pissed delightfully into Oghren's ale and then run to hide. In time, his owner had to use all his charm and wit to prevent his companions from killing the cat.

 

"He's fathered just about all the female cats we have at the Keep," Nathaniel continued, lips twitching with hardly repressed amusement. "Come. If I know that little bastard, he's either stalking Wade at the forge, or hounding cook in the kitchen -- the two warmest places in the Keep, barring the Commander's Quarters."

  
Laughing gingerly, Anders shifted closer; his face still wet with tears marks but calmer, and glanced at Howe with bright amber eyes. "It seems like Pounce was a naughty kitty. I can't say I am surprised." And there, for a moment, Nathaniel glimpsed the old Anders -- confident, playful -- if not actually happy, at least not frightened and depressed as he had been. Anders’s tone was somewhat light, even proud, sounding like his old self. The blond laughed again, a clear happy sound, with a tiny hint of desperation in it. "Just a moment, Nate, I am so thirsty suddenly. Although, no more wine for me. I have gracefully emptied my stomach enough for today."

Nathaniel could not help but wish to see more of the old Anders in this broken man.  His chest clenched painfully for the lost joy and carefree attitude of the mage.

Anders bent above the basket and reached out for one of the water skins. Emptying it eagerly, the blond mage carefully put it down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sighing in relief.

"You're probably right, though I wouldn't worry about getting sick. It happens to all of us, time to time." Nathaniel said soothingly, scooping up the second skin in case it was needed on the way back.  
  
And between the jest and the next moment, the moody mage was back -- the man who expected insults and beatings on every step.   
  
He was quite unnerved by how Anders's cheeky attitude was gone as fast as it appeared, replaced by a weary glare. Just a moment ago he was laughing and now his mood was of a deeply depressed person.

  
"Good, now I can babble some more. Till you get tired of me. You are not tired of me, right? Tell me when I start to annoy you.  It may get annoying at some phase to hear me talking too much." Anders took a small break, realizing he was talking too much again and uncontrollably flinched as if expected to be physically punished for it. His lips mouthed a silent apology. He didn't want to anger Nate, suddenly terrified to displease the man and to be left alone.

Frightened brow eyes glanced at Howe's direction, checking for his reaction. Nathaniel could swear, one wrong move and the mage will expertly bolt away. "You're _fine_ , Anders," Nathaniel said soothingly, giving him a smile. "Maker, I've missed hearing you and your jokes, and teasing, and bravado. You don't have to worry about hiding or being hurt and please don't silence yourself... not with me."

 Who would think that a day would come when he’d have to encourage the mage to speak his mind? Once it was hard to stop the endless flow of words Anders's mouth produced. But current Anders was a very different man. Nathaniel still had a hard time to accept that, this unfamiliar and sometimes frustrating Anders. Perhaps in time, when the mage relaxed and felt safe and accepted he'd change his inferior attitude. Nathaniel wasn't sure if Anders's broken mind and spirit were up to mending but he silently swore to himself to give it his best shot.

 "Ramble away, Sir-Chats-a-Lot. And let's go hunt down that randy tom of yours." He slung an arm around Anders's shoulders like old times, prodding Anders gently in the ribs and led him away.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This collaborative work should not be considered to be in the same universe as _Heart of Stone -- Risa Aeducan's Tale_.


End file.
